


these lips on lips (they go like this)

by singasongofus



Category: Mamamoo
Genre: 5+1 Things, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/F, Pining, extremely sapphic, moonsun
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-28
Updated: 2019-06-28
Packaged: 2020-05-28 06:57:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,282
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19388863
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/singasongofus/pseuds/singasongofus
Summary: five times byulyi almost kisses her roommate, and the one time she does





	these lips on lips (they go like this)

**Author's Note:**

> title from tiffany young's "[lips on lips](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Th7IXezLbYU)"

**1.**

Byulyi moves into her new apartment on a sticky-hot day in August. It’s a little too late in the year for it to be this hot-- September is just around the corner-- but climate change is fucking them all over, she guesses. An incredibly enthusiastic (almost  _ over  _ enthusiastic) Wheein greets her at the door, smiling wide around a red popsicle.

With help from Wheein and constant commentary (“Your bed frame needs a box spring.” “How come you have so many pairs of ugly sneakers?”) from Hyejin, Byulyi manages to drag all of her stuff into the room she shares with Yongsun. The older girl hasn’t moved in yet, but her bed is already set up, probably moved from her old place before summer break. Byulyi takes one look at her own bed-- frame not yet assembled, mattress leaning against the wall-- and her decision is made. She flops back onto Yongsun’s bed and lets the breeze from the open window lull her to sleep.

Yongsun wakes her up by jumping right on top of her. The sun has just set; the sky is a rapidly-deepening blue that casts the room half in shadow. Yongsun leans over, her long hair drawn over a shoulder, face just inches from Byulyi’s.

“Are you hungry? Hyejin ordered chicken.”

Byulyi only groans in response, closing her eyes again. In lieu of a response, she loops her arms around Yongsun’s neck, pulling her down to the bed next to her. Hyejin finds them in the same position fifteen minutes later, before they finally drag themselves downstairs for dinner.

The rest of moving in goes smoothly, for the most part. Byulyi buys a box spring at Hyejin’s insistence, and she finally puts her bed frame together. She and Yongsun go out to buy organizers for their shared closet; their combined shoe collection fills nearly half of it. Yongsun strings fairy lights around the room, and Byulyi helps her hang photos above her desk. 

Despite the decorations, despite Yongsun’s clothes that are already thrown all over their room, it doesn’t quite feel like home yet. Homesickness always hits Byulyi the hardest right at the beginning of the semester, and this year is no exception. A couple days after classes have started, Yongsun finds her curled under the blankets despite the lingering heat, hugging Seulgi’s dance team jacket to her chest.

Yongsun doesn’t say anything at first, only tugs a little at the corner of the blanket until Byulyi lifts it to let her in. It’s definitely too hot for this, but Byulyi is comforted by Yongsun’s weight next to her. When she feels a cool hand carding through her hair, Byulyi leans into the touch without thinking, letting herself be consoled.

When she finally lifts her pillow, she’s taken aback by Yongsun’s expression. Byulyi is sure her face is blotchy and tear-stained, but there’s no mistaking the look on Yongsun’s face: unmasked affection, a fondness that Byulyi can’t bring herself to think too hard about. Her tongue feels thick in her mouth; Byulyi thinks that if she opened her mouth, affection would drip like honey from her lips. She presses them together instead, offering Yongsun a small smile. Yongsun smiles back at her, as warm as ever, and Byulyi wants to bask in that golden glow forever.

**2.**

As the days get shorter, Byulyi’s classes get busier and her walk home gets colder; the walk back from her 5pm economics lecture has gone from a pleasant stroll to a pitch-dark trek through the biting wind. Tonight, that wind is blowing the rain sideways into Byulyi’s boots. She has two inches of water in each shoe, her jeans are soaked, and by the time she’s gotten back to the apartment, she’s pretty sure she can’t feel her toes. 

Wheein gives her a sympathetic look when she steps through the doorway, dripping all over the doormat. Byulyi closes the door and strips right there next to the shoe rack, gathering her sopping clothes in her arms and making a break for the laundry room. When she’s hung them up, she beelines for the bathroom, shivering so hard her knees are nearly knocking together. Byulyi opens the door and is immediately greeted by a wall of steam, tendrils curling out into the hallway. The warmth is so distracting that she almost doesn’t notice Yongsun, brushing her teeth in only her pale blue panties and a yellow towel wrapped around her head. 

Later, Byulyi will thank her lucky stars that she was too cold to blush. Right now though, that sticky feeling in her throat is back. She swallows it down as best she can, tears her eyes away from the curve of Yongsun’s back and the way her hair spills over her shoulders, long enough now to tickle her ribs.

Yongsun, for her part, doesn’t seem to notice Byulyi’s staring, giving a little gasp around her toothbrush when she sees Byulyi shivering.

“Byul, what the fuck,” she mutters, garbled from the foam in her mouth, “get in the shower, you look like you’re gonna get frostbite.”

Byulyi can only nod dumbly, struck silent by the sight of Yongsun’s bare shoulders, the pink skin at the hollow of her throat. She thinks about it even when the hot water feels like it’s burning her frozen skin, and afterwards when she stares at her own reflection in the mirror, hand raised to her neck, wondering what it would be like to touch the soft skin along Yongsun’s collarbone.

She thinks about it later, too, buried under her comforter. The bone-deep chill is long gone but the thought of Yongsun, soft and warm beside her, still makes her shiver.

In her dreams, it’s Byulyi’s shoulders that are tickled by Yongsun’s hair, the older girl pressed warmly to her back. Her hands are draped over Byulyi’s side, resting directly over her racing heart. Their feet are tangled together too; Byulyi feels warmth spreading from every point of contact.

When she wakes up, she can hear Yongsun’s quiet breathing from across the room.

**3.**

In general, Byulyi and Yongsun’s schedules don’t align that much. Yongsun is a morning person; by the time Byulyi drags herself out of bed, her roommate’s bed is neatly made and the coffee has long since gone cold in the pot. Instead of heating it back up, Byulyi likes to stop by the cafe near campus; Wheein works there part-time, and it’s frequented by so many students she’s bound to run into someone she knows.

Today, Wheein’s shift isn’t until later in the afternoon, but Junghwan is working instead, and Byulyi can always count on him to give her a discount (that’s not the only reason she’s friends with him, she swears). He slides Byulyi her iced coffee with a grin, free of charge She takes a sip-- it’s sweetened with honey and just a little bit of milk, just the way she likes it-- and grins back, promising him her marketing notes from last week.

On her way out of the cafe she gets jostled so hard her drink nearly flies out of her hand. Irritated, she turns around to give the person a dirty look, but the girl-- is that Yongsun?-- hurries past her without so much as a glance.

It  _ was _ Yongsun, Byulyi realizes when she comes home to find the older girl hunched over her laptop, wearing the same orange sweater as the girl from the cafe (it’s kind of an ugly sweater, if Byulyi’s being honest; she can’t imagine anyone but Yongsun pulling it off). It’s pretty unlike Yongsun to be that rude, though; Byulyi brushes it off, figuring she must have been late for something.

Except that it doesn’t exactly stop there. Yongsun gripes at Hyejin about doing the dishes, even though they’ve barely been in the sink for a couple hours. When Wheein has friends over for a movie night, she slams the bedroom door hard enough to make Byulyi’s pencil cup fall right off the desk. She asks Byulyi, with increasing aggression, to pick up her clothes off the floor, to make her bed, to organize her desk.

What’s worse is that the more Yongsun tries to boss her around, the more irritable Byulyi gets in return. Maybe it’s a little bit her fault for being stubborn, but Yongsun’s attitude is becoming downright unreasonable at this point, and the most frustrating part is that Byulyi can’t figure out why. 

She reaches her limit when Yongsun-- for what feels like the hundredth time-- tells her to make her bed. She’s sitting at her desk, but stands up so fast she nearly knocks her chair backwards.

“What the fuck is your problem, Yong?” she’s more bewildered than angry, honestly, but her outburst makes Yongsun take a step back, eyes widening. “You’ve been nitpicking every little thing about how I live for the past week-- why does it even matter to you if my bed is made?  _ I’m _ the one that sleeps in it.”

“I just--”

Byulyi cuts her off, shaking her head, “I don’t care. You nearly made Wheein cry because she thought you were mad at her. If you’ve got a problem with one of us just spit it out.” She’s ready to turn back to her homework when she hears Yongsun make a small noise; she’s looking down, hair covering most of her face, and oh no, those are tears in her eyes.

Whatever irritation Byulyi felt melts immediately. She may be stubborn, but she’s never been particularly great at self-control; she can’t stop herself from stepping forward, wrapping Yongsun in her arms. Despite being only a couple centimeters taller than the older girl, she manages to rest her cheek on the top of Yongsun’s head, smoothing down the back of her hair with one hand.

“I’m so sorry,” Yongsun cries, muffled into Byulyi’s sweatshirt, “I’ve been so mean to Wheein and Hyejin and-- and especially you, and you didn’t deserve it at all!” her voice rises to a wail before dissolving back into sobs. 

Byulyi presses a soft kiss to Yongsun’s forehead, sighing into her hair, “Oh, Yongsunnie,” she murmurs, “I wish you could’ve just talked to us about whatever’s bothering you.”

Yongsun presses her face into Byulyi’s shoulder and makes a noise, something halfway between a whimper and another apology, and Byulyi, weak as she is, can only sigh again and stroke her back comfortingly.

They talk about it later, huddling under Yongsun’s blankets; Byulyi assures her that they’re not mad at her, and Yongsun explains that she was just stressed and overwhelmed, and apologizes for taking it out on everyone. Byulyi sleeps with Yongsun curled against her chest, an arm thrown over the older girl’s waist, and wishes that she could keep her safe and happy, just like this.

**4.**

Byulyi has been to Yongsun’s performances before. Acapella nights are fun, and choir concerts, while significantly less lively, are still good, especially when the four of them go to McDonald’s after, with Hyejin, Wheein, and Yongsun still in their long gowns. Tonight’s looking like it’s going to be one of those nights-- they’re still getting ready, but Wheein is already singing about the fries she’s going to eat (Hyejin is hitting her arm, warning her she’s going to lose her voice before the concert even begins).

Byulyi isn’t listening, though. She’s tuned them out, transfixed instead by the glittering of Yongsun’s earrings in the mirror as she leans forward to apply her mascara. Yongsun catches her gaze through the glass and turns around, batting her eyelashes.

“Well? How do I look?”

“Like a movie star!” Wheein pretends to take a photo, nearly tripping over her feet when she turns around.

_ Like a goddess _ , Byulyi wants to say,  _ like beauty personified _ .

“You look like Audrey Hepburn from Breakfast At Tiffany’s,” suggests Hyejin, glancing over from where she’s busy fixing her necklace, “all you’re missing is the gloves.”

Byulyi can’t help but giggle a little at the way Yongsun frowns a little. “She paid so much for her nails, though.” She takes Yongsun’s hand in hers, tilting it a little so the little jewels catch the light. “Just as pretty as you, Yongsunnie.”

Yongsun wrinkles her nose for real at that, swatting Byulyi’s hand away playfully. She reaches forward to ruffle Byul’s hair instead, “Our Byullie, always so greasy.”

It also hurts her cheeks how wide Byulyi grins back, feeling maybe a bit too much like a puppy that’s been praised.  _ I meant it, though _ , she wants to say,  _ you’re so beautiful _ .

Yongsun  _ is _ beautiful, especially standing on stage; she looks so happy, so natural, like it’s where she was meant to be. She has a solo this time-- a real one, not just a part of another song-- and she looks a little magical like this, framed by the golden stage lights and the black, flowing gowns of the other singers. Not ethereal, not like an angel (although Byulyi thinks she’s certainly sweet enough to be one), but like something not completely of this realm, a little too perfect for this world.

Her voice is amazing, as always; Byulyi feels like it’s reaching into her, wrapping fingers around her heart, coating it with the sticky-sweet feeling she seems to get every time she sees Yongsun. By the time Yongsun steps offstage, Byulyi thinks it must be visible, somehow, dripping slow and sweet from her fingertips when she reaches out to embrace the older girl.

There’s nothing to be said for the way Byulyi can feel her brain leaking out of her ears when she watches Yongsun wrap her lips around her Coke straw later that night, squeezed into a booth at the 24-hour McDonald’s near campus. She knows which lipstick Yongsun’s wearing; it’s the same one she wears for all her concerts, perfectly red and just a little glossy, and Byulyi is overwhelmed with the desire to know how it tastes, if it would be as sweet as Yongsun’s honey voice, or as bright as warm as the way she laughs, head thrown back and eyes closed with the force of her joy.

She takes a sip of her own drink, and the bubbles are sour on her tongue.

**5.**

Byulyi will be first to admit that she’s lazy about cooking. There’s just so many steps, so many ingredients, so much time that goes into it; most of the time she just picks up something from the convenience store, or she’ll order takeout and lay on the couch until it arrives. The other girls are almost as bad-- Hyejin’s worse, actually-- so it’s a surprise when Byulyi comes home to the fragrant smell of sesame oil and scallions.

Whoever’s cooking is singing, too; when Byulyi makes her way down the hall she recognizes Yongsun’s voice, singing gently along to the tinny sound of her phone speakers. She’s wholly unprepared, however, for the sight of Yongsun bent over what looks like kimchi stew, wearing only her bra and a pair of low-cut jeans.

This is just like the shower incident, but worse, thinks Byulyi, because her brain is working properly this time and she absolutely cannot stop herself from staring-- at the slope of her shoulders, at the way the muscles in her shoulders move when she reaches for something from the cabinet, at the fucking dimples in her back. Byulyi is sure her face is beet red, but she can’t tear her eyes away, can’t will her feet to move. She wants to kiss the nape of Yongsun’s neck, whisper sweet words into the curve of her lower back. She wants and wants and wants, so badly she doesn’t know what to do about it.

Yongsun turns around before Byulyi gets the chance to make her staring less obvious, jumping a little in surprise. If she notices the look on Byulyi’s face (she’s not sure what that look is, exactly, but she  _ is _ sure that it probably looks dumb), or the way Byulyi definitely still blushing all the way to her neck, she doesn’t say anything, only smiles brightly.

“Byul, did you just get home? Hyejin and Wheein went out with some friends tonight, so I thought I’d get crazy and cook us dinner.” She tosses her head back when she laughs, so fucking beautiful, and Byulyi feels like she has lungs full of honey, slow and sweet and suffocating.

She manages to mumble out some kind of a greeting before she high-tails it back to her room, only it isn’t her room, it’s hers and Yongsun’s, and now Byulyi can’t stop thinking about the dip of her waist, the soft curve of her lips. 

Byulyi makes it through dinner, but only barely; she feels like she’s suddenly hyperaware of everything Yongsun does. She grips her spoon tightly, fighting down the urge to reach out and touch, to tuck Yongsun’s hair behind her ear, to cup her cheeks and kiss her senseless, to take her hand and never let it go.

**6.**

As soon as she comes back from winter break, Byulyi gets sick. It’s incredibly unfair, she thinks; she had the entire break to be sick where her mom could look after her, but her body chooses to betray her now, of all times. 

Yongsun puts up with her whining remarkably well, even babies her through being sick. She brings Byulyi medicine, makes sure she drinks water, and orders ginseng chicken soup when she complains about missing her mom’s cooking. Byulyi would be lying if she said she didn’t act a little more pitiful just so Yongsun would stay and rub her back.

What started off as a bad cough turns into a truly nasty cold-- by the third day, Byulyi is still slightly feverish, and wastes most of her Saturday sleeping on and off between Yongsun feeding her medicine and water. The fever breaks in the evening, and Byulyi manages to take a shower and drink a bit of soup before she crawls back into her blanket nest. Yongsun watches from where she’s watching videos at her desk, looking amused, as Byulyi wraps herself the blankets until only her face is showing.

“Would it ruin your burrito if I came in too?”

Byulyi shakes her head as best she can under all the blankets. “You can’t come in, you’ll get sick.” Her voice sounds weird and nasally, and she sniffles pathetically in an attempt to fix it.

Yongsun’s laugh is prettier than usual, she thinks, possibly slightly delirious; it sounds even sweeter than the honey lemon tea she made Byulyi drink this morning. “I’ll be fine, you just look so comfy in there.”

Despite her worries about getting the older girl sick, Byulyi can’t help but sigh contentedly when Yongsun wiggles into the blanket nest with her. Like this, she has Yongsun pressed warmly against her back, but the feeling of her breath against the back of her neck makes her shiver, and Yongsun immediately brings a cool hand to Byulyi’s forehead, worried.

“I’m fine,” Byulyi insists, very close to whining.

“Okay, okay,” Yongsun laughs again, softly, winding her arms around Byulyi’s waist, “go to sleep.”

Byulyi twists around, settling herself face-to-face with Yongsun. “Goodnight Yongsunnie,” she murmurs.

Yongsun smiles, and there is it again, that warm, sticky feeling that coats Byulyi’s tongue. She wants to kiss Yongsun so  _ bad _ . The older girl leans in, and Byulyi thinks she’s going to kiss her on the forehead at first, but then Yongsun leans down and kisses her gently on the mouth. “Goodnight Byul.”

(Yongsun doesn’t get sick after all, and while Byulyi is mostly grateful that she gets to continue kissing her girlfriend, she does feel like it’s a little bit unfair.)

**Author's Note:**

> many (many many many) thanks to nixie for all the support and encouragement ! i could not have finished this without you.
> 
> and of course, thank you everyone for reading. i'm currently working on a fic for girl group jukebox, so i don't know if i'll be working on other things in the meantime (this was already half-written). thank you as always for being so patient with me and please leave a comment letting me know how you liked this :-)
> 
> you can also find me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/yuexying) or [cc](curiouscat.me/xyiaoya).


End file.
